Table Of ContentS w e e t H e l l
o n F i r e
A Memoir of the Prison I Worked In
and the Prison I Lived In
S a r a
L u n s f o r d
SweetHellOnFire.indd 1 5/7/12 2:27 PM
Copyright © 2012 by Sara Lunsford
Cover and internal design © 2012 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover photo credit line?? (designer to add)
Internal permissions credit lines?? (designer to add)
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—w ithout
permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered
trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not as-
sociated with any product or vendor in this book.
This book is a memoir. It reflects the author’s present recollections of her experi-
ences over a period of years. Some names and characteristics have been changed, some
events have been compressed, and some dialogue has been re- created.
Published by Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567- 4410
(630) 961- 3900
Fax: (630) 961- 2168
www.sourcebooks.com
[insert CIP data here]
Printed and bound in [Country of Origin – confirm when printer is selected].
XX 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
SweetHellOnFire.indd 2 5/7/12 2:27 PM
For Jonathan.
My white knight, my alpha hero, and my Happily Ever After.
And for my dad.
SweetHellOnFire.indd 3 5/7/12 2:27 PM
SweetHellOnFire.indd 4 5/7/12 2:27 PM
Acknowledgments
his book wouldn’t have been possible without
T
the fierce belief in me and the story I had to tell from my
wonderful agent and friend, Deidre Knight, and my fantastic
editor, Shana Drehs.
Or without my critique partner, Jennifer L. Hart, who held
my hand when I had to relive some of the darkest memories,
or the rest of the divas: Gail Reinhart and Traci Poff just for
being themselves.
Angelee Van Allman, for being one of the most amazing,
positive, loving people I’ve ever known.
Big thanks also to Jamie Brenner, who also believed I had
a story to tell.
Last, but not least, every officer who lives the world be-
tween these pages every day to keep us all safe.
Thank you!
SweetHellOnFire.indd 5 5/7/12 2:27 PM
SweetHellOnFire.indd 6 5/7/12 2:27 PM
Foreword
hen people find out that I was a corrections
W
officer they always ask for my story. They want to
know what it’s like behind the walls, working with inmates, if
it’s really like OZ or Prison Break. I’m suddenly a curious little
unfamiliar bug they were surprised to find on their begonias,
and they want to inspect me. It doesn’t bother me because I
know the details of what we do are often kept quiet. That’s just
part of the culture of The Job.
Once I start talking, they always want more. And I always
have more— anyone who has ever worked in law enforcement
in any capacity has a million stories of the incredible, the hor-
rible and the obscene. It’s probably not surprising then, that
I wrote the first draft of this book almost like A Girl’s Guide
to Prison— a manual. All stories of the prison, never anything
too personal. Never anything that dug into the meat of me. I
knew I had to dig even deeper.
So I got out my scalpel/keyboard and flayed myself open
and spilled everything all over the page. Then I realized people
were going to know things about me. Things I’d never told
anyone else. They were going to see me at my worst and I don’t
have a best to contrast it with because I’m not there yet. I’m
still a work in progress.
They’d see how selfish I was, how cruel. How small.
SweetHellOnFire.indd 7 5/7/12 2:27 PM
V I I I sara lunsford
I panicked. Why in the hell would anyone want to read about
that? I was a bad mother, a bad daughter, a bad wife, a bad friend.
A boozed out, tired, bar slut with no dreams and no future.
But I was a good offi cer.
Th at mollifi ed me temporarily…I could live with people not
liking the person I was. Or even the person I am. Whatever.
But I’d be showing everyone my soft, sticky insides. Th e
things that hurt me, the things that made me bleed. Th e things
that still sometimes rise up in the dark and choke me. My
weakness. It twists up my guts even now, but like the old adage
says in for a penny, in for a pound, right?
Any book is a type of voyeurism— you’re looking into other
worlds that live in someone else’s head, or you’re looking into
someone else’s life, into their thoughts. Even a how- to book is
poking around in someone else’s brain.
And I’d signed up to give the guided tour.
But I decided it’s okay for people to look at me; in fact, I
want them to because my story could show someone else who
is lost in the dark, afraid, and wondering if they’ll ever see
the sun again that it’s still there. You can claw your way out
because I’m living proof.
I’m here and living my dream. I’m a full time writer, full
time mom, and full time wife. Th ings aren’t perfect, but they’re
damn close.
After you read my story, I hope you remember this confession
at the beginning because beginnings are always so diff erent from
endings. Beginnings are universally naïve. I won’t say innocent,
but they’re just so far removed from the place where you emerge.
In the beginning, I had no idea that this journey would
change me so much, wound me so much, or even stitch me
back together as it did.
SweetHellOnFire.indd 8 5/7/12 2:27 PM
Introduction
elcome to my world.
W
I know that people frequently use this phrase in a
condescending tone, but that’s not the case here. My welcome
is genuine and heart- felt. But you are going to need a map.
This book chronicles a year in my life, a year when I was
working as a corrections officer for a state prison. I’d worked
at the prison before, but now I was what they called a “re-
tread.” That is, I’d been dumb enough to come back for an-
other round. The book begins near the end of the first year of
my second stint— right before everything started to fall apart.
And the story doesn’t stop at the gate outside the walls, as if
that world could be shrugged off with the uniform at the end
of my shift. This is an uncensored look at the job and the ef-
fects it had on the whole of my life.
I began this year as one person but emerged on the other
side quite another, both from external and internal forces.
They say that during the first year of corrections, an officer is
no good for The Job. After that year, they’re no good for any-
thing else. And it’s true: there’s very little else I’m suited for
now. I write, but that’s a solitary career. One in which I don’t
have to interact with people every day if I choose not to.
I see people differently now than I did before The Job, still
can’t sit with my back to a door, or eat or drink anything that’s
SweetHellOnFire.indd 9 5/7/12 2:27 PM
